Part of the Game

So this past weekend was wonderful and educational. What I thought was a clever idea put me in the same role as a large girl wearing the backless shirt. I tried to fit in my little league jersey. To my defense it fit. To those who love male butt cleav, that was the outfit for you. Hindsight is clear but I still am animate about not wearing button down shirts out on the weekend. I'm not your ex-boyfriend's boyfriend. All those guys look like the smurfs. Now I know why there was only one girl on that show.

Anyway. I also learned the BYOB policy is acceptable for beer. Bring a case, 6 or 12. For those bringing liquor, apparently an entire bottle is needed before you can show your face. Not I. I went extra selfish and packed a flask of Jameson. I later divied up some shots for a few people. I was mocked by one gal and then when I offered her some free booze she did what all good girls do and shut her yapper and took the free booze. Her shoes were too pointy.

Yes, I am like that. There is a theory I am testing. The pointier a woman's shoe is, the higher maintainence she is. Guys, my suggestion of places to look after the typical chest, butt, and complete tattoo search is as follows; finger (for ring), eyes (for early wrinkles from chronic tanning), then shoes. If those things are at a point that they can chip away a block of ice. Back off. For your and your wallet's safety back away. To me it just reminds me of the Chineses culture when they stuffed women's feet in shoes so small they were permanently broken.

We played softball two nights ago. I sucked. One week after a great game I sucked. Tbere was a ditch for batter's boxes and I damn near fell out of it each time. Twice I lost balance on the way to first and fell face forward. My knee is reopened and life is grand. Oh, I also took a liner off my shin and now it is noticeably swollen.

The way things are going I am lead to believe the world will all be married by Halloween. But at least the chicken will be good.

35-14

The other day I wenr to get fitted for my tux for another friend's wedding I am in. Initially a good moment from the compliment on my suit, turned sour. The clerk asked for my waist size, 34. He measured, a 35. A 35. Now I have been pleased being a 34-34 for a number of years. To me it's about keeping the battle versus inseam and waist a tie. Somewhere between the brats and occasional sit ups there was a foul and the waist went to the line making one of two.

I am not worried as much as I am worried. There is now only 5 inches from a 40 waist. Which there is nothing wrong with a 40, but I am (kind of) trying to get a 6 pack. Refocused I have decided to try and cut down on some of the finer things in life. I went to the store and shopped healthy.

Sure I picked up frozen pizzas, but that's only because the Pizzazz hasn't been used in a month. I bought salads, peppers, cucumbers, carrots, vitamin d milk, and for a snack - yogurt. You know you feel bad about your body image when you eat yogurt. I can't believe anyone in their right mind would actually eat spoiled milk with fruit bits in it for fun.

Yogurt is such a reflective food item. Through the whole cup I was thinking "what have I done wrong?" This new quest to purge the pudge will give me reason to cut out beer and go back to the cocktail, and the gym.

My return to the gym came last night. I showed up for some lap swim. I swam for a shorter time in a shorter pool than in Ripon but at least I was there. I went and took out a kickboard and leg foam for specific drills I recall from the team. While using the kickboard (which clearly works your legs), the life guard was cleaning up after family swim. He took my leg foam. Hello, I just ask you five minutes ago if I could use the aforementioned piece of foam. Dillhole.

So I swam. The form was the stellar cellar of D-III athletics some may have witnessed. Once my arms turned jello, I tried a flip turn. Beautiful, now I just need to work past the flushing of my sinuses by all that water. Someday that'll happen.

I returned home to then eat, and watch season 3 of Seinfeld. Ahh life is so sweet. With plans to hit an open mic at midnight I was set and pleased with my day. Then I passed out on the couch. Woke up to Rob's call hoping that he didn't want to hang out due to my now motionless body. He was staying in since he had to work today. FIne with me. I went back to passing out.

2:30 in the morning wakes me up and I move to the bedroom. I stayed there until 11:30 this morning. Thus almost breaking the longest healthy sleep record with a 14.5 hour sleep. I will let you know that I dreamt about the next x-men movies and it will be great, especially if like my dream I am in them.

Fatty Fat Fat

I started today with a parking ticket. Yeah! It's good to know that it cost me $50 to find out that there is actually a police presence in my neighborhood. I ate another chicken pot pie for lunch. Although tasty they are not that good due to the insane number of peas in there. For some reason I will eat snow peas (peas in a pod) and the standard pea is not something I would willingly chew.

Sometime people think that it's the same no matter what. Not true- the presentation creates a whole different experience. I had another Healthy Choice meal yesterday and damn near vomited, just so I had something with flavor to eat. If you were going to eat the beef merlot, don't. It forced me to go to the cafeteria at work. I now know why people are afraid to be over 30. They have to eat that bullshit and pretend to like it.

I have a horrible diet and I know it. I will have my moments of eating balanced meals, typically when in a relationship. Regardless of that I treat the diet as it should be treated. Ride the peperonni wave until it's all over. Let's not be ignorant, we know how it's going to end, why would I choose a cob salad over an Al's Beef combo?

On an unrelated matter, I have a bit of a ponch. Trying to kick that is hard mainly since well everyone tends to repay me in deliciously fatty food. Diets are never possible if you are one that feels each moment should be lived to its fullest. Again, it may change only if there is a chance to impress someone that you can eat more than a case of Pringles and a stuffed crust pizza.

Better Than Nachos?

No way. It couldn't be. Could it? For the past umpteen years my appetite has been quite public for its affection toward nachos, specifically cheese, salsa, and sour cream. Ooh yeah. Well Dan and Steph gave us all the coolest treat of all at the reception. A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN!

Have you ever seen one? Perhaps this is the fountain Ponce was looking for. It flowed like Barry White lyrics over the fruits, cookies, pretzles and fingers of all. Who made this thing? I mean really what stoner am I indebited to this time. It seems that all my favorite snacks came from the back end of some narcotic assistance.

The chocolate fountain reminded me of those Coco-Puff commercials that used to runny. Which by the way Sunny is the creepiest of all cereal mascots. I am just amazed, I was really set on a nacho platter- only because I could have sworn I heard talk of such mexi-happiness. Then again I don't just have selective hearing I have wishful hearing.

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I would write more about the reception but I just got back from seeing Episode III and it was magnificent. The third movie I have seen on my own. I feel that is better for critical analysis.

Ever since Garden State I can totally tell that Natalie Portman wants me. Would I convert for her? I think there could be a common ground established. It is afterall Hollywood.

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Maybe it's nostalgia kicking in again but I sure could go for a Slurpee. That $1.30 tub of aired out Mountain Dew sure made me a happy camper. Did I ever mention that my friends and I at the movie theater back when I was 16 invented what is now Code Red? Sure we didn't document that but I blame that on the free refill policy at the theater. So weak, yet so delicious.

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Can radio stations stop playing Pearl Jam's Jeremy, Alive, or Evenflow? Ten came out more than ten years ago, let it go. Somewhere there are community college linemen hitting the repeat button on their new removable face car stereo. Thank God I am still not cool.

Three Ringed Circus

Well my brother got married this weekend. I was the best man and that was really cool. There were about half a dozen more things that I was responsible for than originally thought. Not until I took care of the rings though.

Now here is the story above all others here. Dan had one ring, Steph had two rings (one for each side of the engagement ring- sort of a pimp my wedding band thing). Anyway, she has such small fingers that I noticed her rings could become lodged inside of Dan's. So I chose to separate them in my pocket.

It just so happened that I chose to do this as the procession in was begining. The groomsmen were off to the side and were to meet with the bridesmaids at the aisle. I had separate the rings and placed one in the internal pocket inside the pocket. Due to my excessive sweaty hands the other one of her rings became stuck to my hand, then upon pulling it out of the pocket it fell off my hand. The only reason I knew was that the sound it made hitting my ever so comfortable tux shoe.

Within moments, I realized I couldn't keep this a secret. Every one asked if I was joking. I began to fear that I would be first ever in family history to be impeached from the Best Man role. Then with all the groomsmen crawling around on the side of the church, it was found. I thank John Rossi immensely for that. I apologized to Dan and then made sure the rings were in separate parts of the pocket. All's well that ends well right?

Nope. See I am confident that moment made me more nervous about the whole ceremony than either the bride or groom. When the deacon (a whole story on his own) asked for the rings I took them out one at a time. My hands were prespiring as though they were in a sauna or something. Delicately I took one ring, the next ring. The pocket was deep and bunching up on my bulbous sweaty digits. The Deacon then says "go ahead and take your time, you've got all day." His ignorance of the previous situation makes me take his comment in stride.

Crisis averted and we leave the church. Almost. People are coming up to me, for some reason. They insist on telling me that what I did with the rings was comic genius. Not giving them at one time. Right, watch out National Lampoon, here comes a tall bafoon that makes people laugh through his own futility. Ok that actually sounds better than how I see.

A best man must make sure that not only does the wedding end happily, but that it's memorable. Oh I do believe I succeeded on both fronts. Can't wait to mention the reception tomorrow.

Make it Stop

Well well well. Let me tell you about the most recent of my obsessions. The McDonald's dollar menu. In one weekend I ate 3 double cheeseburgers. THREE people. That's a lot. Since I normally have been a mcnugget guy. Now the mcnuggets are all upset since they aren't getting any love. Calm down mcnugs, everyone gets a turn. You had like I don't know about twenty plus years of dietary monopoly. Things change, people have phases but I know I will never stray from the beauty and deliciuousness of the sweet and sour sauce.

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Last night I went out with some buddies and it was great. I grew a new nemesis, found solace in another, impressed myself, and even got free beer.

So I was to meet jj and steve with rob at some bar. Great no problem. I felt all sorts of prepared by having the cab co in my cell phone. I called them. Told them where I was and they told me that in about 5-20 minutes the cab shall arrive. Rob and I sit on the curb drinking our beer- yes we're that tough. I called the cab place again five minutes later. "I am calling to restate the legitamacy of my cab request." The disbatcher then tells me that "we don't service your area." I'll take bullshit for 200.

We walk to a busy intersection and as we walk there's a cab to that very company. For the rest of the night I cursed at any cab that was from that company.

~~~~~~~~

So at the bar my theory was proven into social law. I wore a 1990's commemoration t- shirt for the demolition of Comiskey Park. Why? I knew that every guy there would be wearing a freaking button down shirt (striped or not). Was I right? Dead on. The evening dresscode now is a button down shirt, add stripes if you want to give the impression that you have an electric guitar or something else you don't use - like a gym membership.

Enter a shorter brown haired girl. Name ANdrea. I stress where the syllable is because there was an AnDREa there too. You broads need to realize your name is not ever unique. The crazy need to spell or correct pronunciation just lets us all know how high maintainence you are.

She was drawn to my t-shirt. Maybe it was the glow-in-the-dark feature, or the fact I was the only one that had just a t-shirt on. Anyway, she eventually tied a balloon to my belt loop- she wants me right? I know just another girl that gets smitten like a kitten to be near such a tall guy. I ripped it off my belt loop.

As the night ends there, this bald man keeps following her around. Why? Did he not see the balloon incident? Does he not understand the marking of one's territory. I was marked. Just on appearance I felt I was safe. About four or five free beers into it I walked up to her and asked "You're not really going to go home with that bald guy are you?" She then replies "That bald guy is my boyfriend." Do I apologize? Do I try and compliment my way to forgiveness? I said "Well, good luck with that." I then turned to my friends and said ok now it's time to go.

That sort of impecable timing is something you're born with, so don't try it if you don't have it.

Ripon-Good Times

Last Saturday I went back to college for the first time classes were in session since my own graduation. What a great feeling. All my old friends and infatuations were there to make me feel the warmth of being the original tall lanky bastard. I went back into the fraternity house which for those unfamiliar is a dorm- we're a resedential campus.

There were so many changes made on campus since I was last there. Construction everywhere, paint actually staying in presentable condition and even freshman. Wow, I love the twinkle in the eye of underclassmen. There is something about their own ignorance of not knowing how good they have it.

I caught up with the guys, which at one point lead to me getting beer poured down my back by Nick Greenwood, friend and former chem tutor. In a fit of revenge my thought was to poor beer in retaliation on someone else knowing their own innocence, but thinking that this would make them pour beer on Nick. Nope. More beer down my back. At least I wasn't able to shower for a full day.

There was a great moment for me to realize I was drunk. I saw who is called Baby Huey and well, she went by the hall while I was on my way to the bathroom. I grabbed the right shoulder of my friend Rob, pulled him in close to drunken whisper-shout "Dude, Baby Huey!" Rob then turned to me to reveal that he was not Rob. I have joked about being gay but when you whisper "Dude, Baby Huey" into someone's ear on their way to the urinal- that could be code for something only the community would know. How I left the bathroom without a black eye or phone number amazes me.

I am a chump. Full out. For some reason I was drinking a beer in the hall and the hall director came by and asked me to pour out the beer. WHAT!? Fearing repercussions for the brothers, I did so. Then came the bitch slap. He asked me to take the can out of the water fountain (bubbler-for WI residents) and put it in the trash. I was too drunk to reason but tried to do so once he left. I take no insult to the request, I understand my college is accepting of inhebreation, as long as it doesn't interfere with the beautification.

Thank you all at Ripon, I had such a good time I might even vote republican next time.

Birthday Horroscopes

I believe in fate, that's why I read my horroscopes the day after. I didn't make up the second one. Last year they told me Uma Thurmond has the same birthday as me. These are pulled from the paper, not Cosmo or some crap like that.


APRIL 29 IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: Your intellectual prowess wins fans and money this year! Changing the cast of characters in your work realm will infuse you with new energy over the next three months. Property and inheritance matters are resolved in September. A sensational romance has you floating through the summer. Love signs are Virgo and Capricorn. Your lucky numbers are 20, 3, 1, 14 and 40.

IF APRIL 29 IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: Comedian Jerry Seinfeld (1954) shares your birthday. You're aware of your image. You are self-possessed and dignified. You have excellent social skills. You value the good opinion of others. You handle responsibilities well. You have an above-average interest in your wardrobe and your appearance because you want to look good! The year ahead is social, fun-loving, and it favors romance!

Two horroscope people saying there's a good chance for romance. Ooh la la! I certainly hope she's a gymnast or massuse, or well not ugly.

The Manhattan Project

Ok, so the blog has been down since there were tech issues with the connection. SBC came out and unplugged the same items I did and then it worked. Whatever I guess. I now believe in the power of the orange maintainence vest.

I went out Thursday night solo since my Golden Girl marathon was canceled. There is a bar near my place that has discounted martinis on Thursday, so I went. Upon sitting next to Norm and Cliff, I looked at the martini list. Now the thing with martinis is that most of the new ones are fruity one meant for women.

So I ordered a manhattan. Apparently that drink gave me mad respect in the bar by any guy near me. They all thought I was on classy guy ordering a manhattan. That was cool, but I didn't know how cool until Dewey told me he sells Makers Mark and was impressed I ordered one at my age. He bought my drinks, in a completely hetero way though.

The guys around me started talking to me and asking about myself and it was interesting that such a kinship can be forged over booze, wait no that's what booze does. I now sit in the same spot at the bar and will soon be a known regular there, which I think will end the free drinks.

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I have learned so much about mass transit in the past day alone. See, I once went out on my own and I got to a transfer point and exited for my new train. I waited for about 35 minutes for my new ride. During that time I saw about five trains coming for the same line that I was just on. Frustrated at the hour and lack of service since it never came, I went home.

Now bring us to yesterday. Rob and I were at the same transfer point and then he threw me for a loop. We went upstairs. What?! I told him that I was waiting downstairs for 35 minutes. He laughed in my face as we went up what seemed to be the eternal escalator ride. I walked out onto the above ground walkway and sure enough, that's where I should have been weeks ago.

This all goes back to one of my weakness being arrows on signs. When the arrow is to indicate one direction I interpret for another. It said arrow to the right. I went right. Not right up the stairs. I feel as though I can reverse this shortcoming but I need someone in the transit dept to admit to the signs not being completely clear. I am such a moron. Only the obvious confuse me because it's so simple that I think no way, this shouldn't be this easy.

The level of difficulty of using the mass transit is so easy the blind can do it. This episode should be a pick me up for them, that is if someone is reading this to them right now.

Red Rover

Nothing lets off steam like ten minutes of so of jumping rope while trying to follow an episode of Law and Order. No matter how bad my day may have been, the fines in NYC have it worse. So this is my second rope session and I like it. I can tell I jump lopsided since I am building blisters on the inside of my big toe.

I used to think jumping rope is lame, but now that I have one with the weights in it- definitely hardcore. It gives me reason to quit the Y. Then again I should go once or twice just to see if the women there are more out going than in other facilities. Picking up someone at the gym is something that has such visual pros and cons.

While there you get to see they don't want to either get fat, or feel ugly. Advantage health club. However, there are so many reasons not to talk while there- headphones, heart rate, closed captioning of Access Hollywood. Most women look good at the gym- ok most women that renew their membership look good. Advantage health club. The double negative here is the sweat factor. Shaking hands, dripping wherever, and worse of all back sweat. Mandy Moore herself could approach me but if she was all sweaty backed I would have to ask her to hit the shower.

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So on my recent drives I have come across something that makes me feel smarter than watching a boxing match. There are people selling M&M's with peanuts. Not even kids- grown pathetic people. Excuse me sir, what are those delectable looking chocolates in the yellow wrapper? I have NEVER seen them before.

No longer do I trust children's fundraisers. Somewhere behind each cubscout popcorn, girl scout samoa, or issue of Streetwise there is a corrupt person taking the generosity and mocking it. Do you really believe your standing in traffic will compell me to buy chocolate? Only if I see someone having a diabetic attack.

Now if there were Starburst or Payday maybe I could agree on supporting their now commendable efforts for alcohol.

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I had honey nut Cheerios the other day. First time ever. In my life. There are so many things that I have been witholding from and I don't know why. I tried to then put banana on the Cheerios. That tasted all sorts of horrible. .The gooeyness of the potassium rod and the crunchiness of honey coated oat rings makes me wish for my cholesterol to never be high enough I have to do that again.

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If you think ham and cheese is boring- toast it. Suddenly ham and cheese is back to being #1 in the lunch meat locker room. Thank you Sally Skillet and Molly Margerine for making it all possible. I also now know I really don't have a spatula, I thought I misplaced it. Nope I had to use a mixing spoon. Not nearly as effective.

Make it a Double

The kegerator. It has died. It took talking to my cousin in Mississippi to realize I am beyond the concept. Am I? This is a big decision. See I am the dream. I have been told by literally countless males that they are intending on living vicariously through me. Flattering, but that's a whole new pressure I didn't expect.

The kegerator is something many men ponder. I had a dream, where I had two kegerators that sat side by side ready to make the best black and tan a guy can hope for. I even have the official Guiness glasses. There are certain moments even I become trigger shy. Take for instance this whole kegerator, the more I talk about it the more I realize the kegerator is a sausage magnet.

I am consciencous of the ratio everytime I have people over. Only on certain cases do I allow a -1 or -2 ratio. I have now begun to construct the blue prints for the next big idea. A wet bar. To my knowledge that means bar, but wet makes it mean something classy.

As my NY Bartender book as my gospel, I will prepare for the end of month spectacular. The next additions will have to be something along the lines of wine, rum, midori, chambord, or brandy. The decision is tough since the necessity for grenadine should be mentioned in the same breath as jigger.

Not too many people understand the movement happening here. I am on the verge of creating one of the best recreational experiences that is not sex, but very may well lead to it. Pioneer I am not, but I am one hell of a host- I'd like to think.

I also would like to think this would come to actually happen. So blind by the sun I forget to look at the ground. This should be fun.

Costco Anyone?

Welcome to life, as we know it. Now that I have the internet at my fingertips I can talk to as many people I would like. Just yesterday I went to the store with my mom for groceries. This was a great moment in bachelorhood transition. She let me push the cart and even load it.

I like the whole Costco experience. There is something about a single person shopping at a place meant to quench a natural disaster site. I went aisle to aisle, not wanting to miss a single lot of anything. Moments of weakness are much more significant there than any other shop. Never before have you had to rationalize a purchase and the ability to store it in your residence like this bulkland.

My heart went pitter patter twice. Once at the alcohol. The college in me said "ok, so one big storage bin, four blenders, some pineapple rings, cherry kool-aid and we are in business. " To my shigrin, chianti is not the mixer that Skol vodka once was. I managed to purchase a bottle of Skyy so large it should be made into a lamp. Thank you capitalism.

My jaw actually dropped upon the sight of Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwhiches, sausage, egg and cheese croissant. I restrained myself, claiming that would be a silly purchase. I then went over and grabbed a package of hotdogs with more than a ballpark vendor carries.

I was at one point scared. My mom, young at heart went wandering around the store, likely for some vegetables. I got to the point of excess. I reached for the cell phone to call her and find exactly where she was. I found her moments later between the ravioli and taquito chests.

Grocery shopping is a fulfilling time for young people. I remember my grandma asked me at Easter about living on my own. "What are you going to do for food?" I replied "well, I probably will go hunting- like everyone else." She chuckled, and then promptly removed my smart ass from the will.

I like knowing that I have food in the freezer. My belly will be full for a month now. The advantage of Costco is greatly noted as it was paired with one of the biggest downfalls to city life. No garaunteed parking space. Nothing like hauling random boxes of items that don't even match a block and half.

Where are the homeless when you need them?

Life at It's Finest

The AM Grand Prix has been in full effect now for about a week. I was going onto the Kennedy and Mona the Silver Bullet has reached a new top speed. 91 mile per hour. The car is awesome by many engineering standards, the only one I know is that it doesn't shake when I top out at 91.

The only way my 03 Malibu can get cooler is if I save up to make it a convertible. Kind of a responsibility meets urban ignorance.

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So bracket talk quickly. I am that guy. I had 2 brackets both with U of I v. UNC. Each one with the other winning. Genius. Once again those Chinese people are right, this is the year of the Mike (or Rooster)
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Last night I stayed up watching tv. Not good tv, something my dad always talks about. Channel 11. Why? There was a documentary on the hotdog stands across our fine nation.

Of course they went and had Chicago dogs near the end of the show. Even on the poor man's PBS, they go for ratings. FYI, no condiments on my hotdogs for me. Just MSG and fillers.
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Sometimes I feel lost and like I am in a vicious cycle, then I realize that feeling is relative to the number of Law & Order shows I watch a week.

AM Grand Prix

...to come once I have time. Ok, I have time now I just wish it to be not 5:50pm on a Friday. I need to leave work. Peace. Oh, Tiffany- you might as well leave your contact info in a comment since I will have no other way. My readers will respect your privacy. (Dear readers: She's hot. Totally call her if you can.)

Hey I can post from work

Lookie here people. I am still figuring out the cheapest internet cost for the apartment but I now know the blog is not blocked by corporate. Longstory short, a new reason to stay late or come in early. By the way, hi Tiffany. Let me know how you came across the blog. To everyone else a real blog is coming soon.


Coming tomorrow... The A.M. Grand Prix

Thanks Woodridge

Tonight is my last post while residing in the bustling apathy of Woodridge. I look forward to being apart of the on place that people give the broad name to and yet is understood. The city. There is something wonderful about the move. No one expects you to come to them for the next two months. There is so much effort in moving that we all understand the plight that comes to leaving where you just busted tail to get to.

I have way to much crap. I am about neck deep in nostalgia and fraternal glassware. The pain of exhaustion is something wonderful. I really would like to write more but I am beat.

Next posting will most likely be the first post from my own place. Salvation, Mr. Dufrane comes from within.

Move Over Betty

Holy cow do I have a lot of crap. The whole moving would be much quicker if I had alzheimers. I think the worst part of it all is awakening the dust demons. Photo albums always seem to get another life when the move comes. There are a lot of people that I have not been in touch with, whether intentional or not- I am still managing.

By this time next week I will be in the new digs and it should be something short of wonderful. Nothing like taking a day from work to move on Friday and Saturday and then rest for like five hours of sleep only to have to return to the same house I just moved from for Easter brunch.

I don't mind the brunch, I love it. On a purely selfish level I would like to meet the week after I movet. What can you do? How about if you go to church less than ten times a year you can't celebrate the holidays. I believe in God, I believe in the sacraments, but I also believe God wants the relationship to be more than the twice a year charade of faith.

I think most people celebrate the holidays because they fear the surfacing of their own religious apathy. When I go to the brunches, dinners- at like 3 in the afternoon (that's a late lunch but I digress)the only time we discuss the holiday is when we say "happy Easter." The rest of the day is about the prospective summer plans, and the best of all - the ol' family grudges. Now that's not how the whole day is but those are the highlights.

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I went to practice softball on Saturday and well that was fun. Cold but fun. Initially, my diving was at mid-season futility, but then I committed to the task moreover and dove, snagged the ball, summersaulted, and popped up to through the ball back in. My batting was a whole other story. It's spring training for a reason folks.

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My friend got into the Phd program and called me at work about it. I almost got fired. Upon telling me that he got in I almost slipped and said "dude, that's fucking tits!" Fortunately I had some tact left over from when I chose not to use it when talking to my boss.

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So I had two shows this weekend that were not the stellar shows you all pay boku bucks for. However, I did have some shining moments which only keeps me focused on the task at hand and reluctant to get into a monogomous relationship.

Blackout 2

(old man and two kids sitting around table)

kid 1: Wow Grandpa that's a cool story.

Grandpa: Well it's just one of many-

kid 2: Is that how you hurt your knee?

Grandpa: No, I'm fat.

(blackout)

3 Hour Notice

Show @ the Cornservatory Theater
4210 N. Lincoln
$8 BYOB (yeah it's that classy)
10pm

Blackout 1

(man 1 on phone)

Man 1: ...yeah I know that will never happen.
(enter Man 2)

Man 2: what's going on?

Man 1: ...are you kidding? That's going to ruin everything!

Man 2: what? what is it?

Man 1: ...hold on. Hey, why are you all up in my business, grandpa?

Man 2: I'm a part of your life too.

Man 1: Well, why don't you act like the silent partner and shut the fuck up! - So, you were saying?

BLACKOUT

The Numbers Game

Somewhere somebody is counting on the trivial to make it all worth while. The life of staticians is one that I simply don't follow. They have the uncanny sense of insight. In a way they kind of are like welcomed psychics. How does somebody know that they should be recognizing the number of attempts one makes while there is a Kentucky blue grass beneath them?

My own conspiracy theory is that whenever the commentator to an event says "has _ consecutive conversions" I know there is a miss coming. For that I believe the game is fixed. There is a line of necessity for numbers. I see no sense in telling me stats that are not in the boxscore. When will I care how many times a player shoots threes after coming off whooping cough? Never.

We have run out of things to talk about because the true stats are tainted so now we look to the gym class stats that make heros look like gods and scrubs look like heros. The inflation of success is an issue all on its own. We have become so set on surpassing the past that we simply look for the quickest way to piss on the image of persaverance.

Sure there are some pure numbers being made right now. I honestly have eaten pizza for six straight days. The longest I have gone is thirteen. So this could happen but like a hitting streak let's not let the media taint my efforts with questions of scandals like an eating disorder or high cholesterol.

College was wonderful since we would go for either consecutive days, hours, or minutes of drinking and that judged our level of clout on campus* (*all clout was contigent upon class attendance and gpa).

Somewhere out there a numbers fiend is keeping tally of their office job. No one cares, but once there is the happy hour the statician reveals their power. The brute control over numbers and their necessity to link life to a random stat that will 97% of the time do one thing, kill the conversation. I wish there were some way to show appreciation to the statician for all their hard work. I guess I will just have to work on my blank stare and "Oh Really?!:

Pre-Paid Pain

I got my direct deposit notice today. Swell. Not so much they switched something. I made less money while working the same hours. Then with my Columbo capabilities, I noticed it was the benefits. My pre-tax deductions set in. Just when I thought life had some form of compassion.

Damn near $200 off my check. That's almost another eight weeks at second city. Lost, or until I get hit by a bus, or retire to Milwaukee- not everyone can afford the Hamptons. I told my mom of the burden and she tried to calm me down with, "it's only once a month." I then reminded her that I only get two checks a month.

Are we almost at the age where celebrations are more resisted than accepted. There are way too many people being happy and throwing parties. See if you don't throw parties- not all like that deal, then you get caught giving 90% of the time. Nothing wrong with it as long as you get more than two checks a month.

I walked past a Dunkin Donuts in the city that is closed per the request of the Mayor's Dumpster Patrol. Two things worry me. One, for Mayor Daley to acknowledge corruption before it goes page 1, that's amazing. Two, to what degree of flunkie is a dumpster patrol person? I now know who is below the crossing guard.

Today I used whipped wax instead of hair gel. Although my hair remained manageable and shiny, it did have a wax coating that smeared onto my forehead. My mom mentioned that it has a minor scent that I wouldn't notice. True, the scent of women's hair product is minor after the first four hours of predominate feminity scents coming from my scalp.

I went to the gym to ruun and got all the way to the locker room of crazy old naked men only to realize I had forgotten my white socks. If I ran in black argyles and then walked around for fifteen minutes naked in the locker room, I would unofficially qualify for social security.

Toys in the Attic

Coming to an open mic near you...the revised material from my college showcase. I don't know why I sat on it for so long but, what better time than now.

GUITAR!!!

There are certain thresholds that people cross that simply ruin their credibility. I was listening to the radio and there was actually an Aerosmith song that at one point Steven says..."GUITAR!!!" and then the GUITAR wails out. Thank you Steven Tyler for making me realize that behind monumental success there stands a boy, a very akward one with beer bought friends.

The whole concept of announcing something that is already there is crazy. How is this even cool to the band? No one goes rocking out and screams ..."KEYBOARD!!" If 3/4 of the band is comfortable with the audience recognizing the instrument what makes the guitar so freaking special? Maybe if it were used as much as the triangle I could see the necessity in the announcement.

Playing the guitar is something most people try. These are the people trying to rehab their lonely nights into busy ones. I think it woud be a sight to meet the one guitar playing virgin. It's understood. A guitar equals sex. No one argues, no one asks questions. Once that guitar is left out for someone to see the foreplay has begun.

Why? Maybe it's the multi-tasking capabilities with having both hands moving and grooving together. Maybe it's that for 3.5 minutes someone is not directly focusing on anyone in particular. Attention is power. When we take it or give it people notice. Some of them even derobe.

When women take their clothes off at a concert what are they expecting to happen? First of all, if I am paying x ammount of dollars, I want the show to be on stage. If some box is taking her top off and it affects the band, just imagine the repercussions that will insue once they realize how scuzzy she really is.

Is flashing really the ultimate sign of approval. Are the nipples that high on the scale of bodily justification. The nips must be at least the polar opposite of the middle finger. No one shows their chest unless life is euphoric. At the same time, you really can tell what someone has been up to when they lift that shirt. Either way we all look to see.

A New Lease on Life

It's over. The apartment search has concluded and yes people it is possible to find a one bedroom that is nice, affordable, and not in a government housing project. I was growing horribly tired of the crapholes I was visiting. Many fit the shoebox size comparison, and a few were more like the shoebox the dead hamster was put in.

I almost went studio but didn't because I would never leave my bed. It would be this catch all for activity that should not be had in a bed. The day I no longer dine in my bed I will finally reach that potential my teachers spoke of.

Never will I trust the words of the newspaper. When reading a classified without a photo I started to give the benefit of the doubt to the owners. People who don't use a photo are frankly cheaper than ten cent Ramen they eat on Thanksgiving. The concept behind the garden apartment is a strange one. The garden is an ideal segue between mom's basement and an actual apartment. Personally, my decision came from realizing I have more head room in my Malibu.

Features are what get us to sign, right? Some of the less fortunate places were throwing anything but decency at me. My favorite line a realitor said was "it will look much better before you move in, so just keep that in mind." One of my concerns is that it is near an L stop. When asked about the nearest locale, the woman said "there is one really close to here. All you have to do is walk about two blocks east, grab a cab or the bus and take it a mile to Division." Everyone has their own definition of close I guess.

There was one place that was an old hotel. It was pretty sweet but at the same time the mystique of dirty politicians bootleg brandy is more than stale for my liking. The owner was walking around with some death scented stogie and he walked with the swager of one that knows the shit smell is coming from their own shoe. His kitchen rivaled the easy bake oven, the sink looked like an Alabama lawn ornament. In the bathroom, the color scheme was asylum white with grout black. The toilet was something out of the Alcatraz section of Pottery Barn. To top it off the place came with the Murphy's bed. You know the one that comes out of the wall. I sure think it was called a herpes bed with the general apperance of a spotted uncooked processed grey government meat.

I like my new place because it is well, in the city, near the L, and most of all the gas station will actually allow you to enter the building to pay for gas- I think. Incase you're looking to move here's my guide to staying out of the ghetto.

1. If there are more Currency Exchanges than Starbucks in a mile - no go
2. If you have to pay for gas by sliding the money in the drawer as the 1st generation employee shudders in fear - no go
3. If the nicest car on the block doesn't have THAT much rust - no go.

Happy Hunting.

News Flash

Ok first the good news. This past Saturday the two man debut of The Inseam Asylum went well. There was 16 people there to see us alone plus the other guests. Nice job on the byob policy.

Now the even better news. I will be performing stand up at Donny's Sky Box @ Second City next Sunday at 6pm. Then on the 20th The Inseam Asylum will be performing at Donny's Sky Box @ Second City. $5 at the door. Alcohol served too. This is big so hopefully you can make it. The theater is on the 3rd floor of Piper's Alley.

~~~~~~~~~


I think I understand why the european culture refrains from moving out until marriage. The search for an apartment is as fun as trying to determine the sexual history of an one night stand. You can take it at face value but it's in your best interest to listen to your gut.

Many people compare a small apartment to that of a shoebox. Well, I recently have seen the one that I put my dead hamster in when I was ten. Never can you have the chance to control unless you build it up yourself. If there are old folks homes why can't we have the youth movement centers? I just wish that I could walk to a bar, the L, and get to a highway with relative ease and not have to worry about people that have never lived in Chicago telling me where the bad people live. Which for anyone outside of suburbia bad people commonly are known as minorities.

If I were to ever fall for one minority which I could see only because of sheer posibility, it would be a wonderful life with a soundrack of whispers. Why do I even discuss this matter? There is now a bounty that I will marry in the next 5 years. SImply because my brother and sister married 5 years apart. Mathematics aside, I know that I have an eight week policy that I am still staying good on.

~~~~~~

I ate lunch at Denny's and now have a desire to file for government assistance. Typically a meal out makes you feel special and then you return to the obscure with blind hope renewed. I feel like I should be either on my death bed or on my way to an early morning church service.

I wonder what is the typical age most people become more religious? Is it once they retire? That whole concept of retiring has completely inflated the life expectancy rate. Centuries ago, people dying in their thirties was normal, but then once some nitwit wanted a pension all America wanted to keep up with the Joneses. Now we have pills that simply help us take up prime real estate on the highway and beach for people who could actually maneuver around it. I am not planning on busting my tail down the court of life only to pass the ball to someone else. Selfish, maybe, but until I hear the 401k transfers over then I will buy the craze of conservation.

Second to None

I left work at 7:15 tonight. I felt good about the work ethic, the determination, the struggle. Then I got the call from my mom. I expected the news today but it still didn't amass until I was there. Today my sister and brother in law, became parents for the second time. What makes this a great story is that one- this is their second straight intentional child, and two I got to see her on the first day.

I have been animate about the singel bachelor life for quite some time. That may very well be possible but I tell you nothing compells another like the immense tribute to eachother like the next generation. About five hours ago I was clueless. I get it now. I can't really explain it now but it honestly moved me. This moment could very well have been the welcome mat to a world I have been resisting only to be resisting something.

Perhaps the predetermined title of Godfather (it's ok do your Brando) made this moment sweeter. I am sure that it was that I was there. I now realize what I missed when my nephew was born. I can't wait to teach her the first prank to pull on her mom.


Second to None

Natural glances birth new chances
proving fait is faith in
two for one sacrifice
solitary blinks invert
the wood work of hope
tomorrow's laughter hugs
unconditional echoes of nature's inspiration
never comparable
a moment's peace is now
wrapped in heaven's glow
forever;
second to none

Congratulations Lisa, Eddie

This Week's Shows

So it begins. Another week. Well here's something to look forward to.


Tuesday: Open Mic Comedy @ Island's ( a most needed return to one of the best rooms in Chiland) 3856 N. Ashland 8:30 start. Free

Wednesday: Micetro Improv (competitive improv, audience can play too!) 1802 Berenice (Lincoln & Berenice, walk to the end of Berenice) 8pm start- $6 for actors, $10 for day jobbers. BYOB

Saturday: Inseam Asylum (DEBUT SHOW! Improv comedy by 2 tall guys- a new recipe for laughter I believe) 4210 N Lincoln 10pm start- $10 (I think it may be $8) BYOB

Sunday: The Second City Improv Class Showcase (Level D performance, games similar to Who's Line...) 1616 N Wells. 2pm- Free.

I really would love to see you all at all of these but know that you are busy folks. Spread the word too please.

Contact me with any questions.

Oscar Picks

Tonight is the night for the Oscars. TIme for me to stake my claim for who I think will win. Now I unfortunately will rely upon the politics of Hollywood more than the films themself since I didn't see all of them.


Actor- Lead Foreign Language Film
Jamie Foxx- Ray The Chorus

Actor- Supporting Makeup
Alan Alda- The Aviator The Passion of the Christ

Actress- Lead Music (score)
Hilary Swank- Million Dollar Baby The Passion of the Christ

Actress- Supporting Music (song)
Cate Blanchett- The Aviator "Look to your Path" The Chorus

Animated Feature Best Picture
The Incredibles Million Dollar Baby

Art Direction Short Film (animated)
The Aviator Gopher Broke

Cinemetography Short Film (live action)
House of Flying Daggers 7:35 in the morning

Costume Design Sound Editing
Lemony Snickets Spider-Man2

Directing Sound Mixing
The Aviator Ray

Documentary Visual Effects
Super Size Me I, Robot

Documentary Short Writing (adapted screenplay)
Sister Rose's Passion Finding Neverland

Film Editing Writing (original screenplay)
Million Dollar Baby (Hotel Rwanda)

I will thank the Academy later.

Yesterday's Over

A little fyi. Some people may be concerned that I am not pursuing the dream. Well, today I submitted for a stand up showcase for a summer festival. Additionally, by March 1 I will know if I will be performing at the student stage at Second City for stand up or improv. By this week's end I should know also my status for the writing program. Once I make it into this level, I will be working with other students to write a sketch review that will run for eight weeks on the student stage.

I will keep this blog short. I found the apartment. It's in Logan Square. I find out in 13.5 hours if it is mine. I must go now and compulsively think about what I can't control. At least this time it's not about a girl.

Pride in Progress- hometown motto, genuis, just genius.

This Weeks Shows

Monday- Crush (Halsted/Diversy) 8:30pm start. $2 burgers and new material by yours truly
Tuesday-Islands (Irving Park/Ashland) 8:30pm start 2-4-1 appetizers new material
Wednesday-Barrel of Laughs (oak lawn) 8:30pm start

Friday-Last Night Premiere (VIP invite only sorry Access Hollywood)


Coming March 5th- The Inseam Asylum. Improv Comedy @ The Cornservatory Theater in Chicago
March 6- Second City Level D Showcase

Hope to see you there.

When Should You Shut Up?

When the world stops, and reverses it's axis. I was out at new hire training for work and there were plenty of people ready to suck the farts off any superior there. I shold have known the week would end well as it started on the tile just below the urinal. I used mapquest to get to the location and believe it or not, mapquest was wrong. Just slightly though. I was told to go East when I should have gone West. Easy mistake, I forgive you mapquest.

The place I went to was up in Deer Park. If you are unaware of the location it is where the highway ends/starts. There is a sign that says its over. I always thought highways were infinitely long and I never would see the end. It was as disappointing when I saw where the sidewalk ended too. Yes, that is a Shel Silverstein reference.

Upon my thirty minute late arrival, I had to knock on the door to enter. Just before the door was opening, I prayed. I prayed for another moron to walk up right behind me. Not quite. I entered to find all seats were taken so I got to stand for about 10 minutes before we started with the ever important ice breaking information.

There were some people there that I truly wish the best for. Others I expect it. When broken into groups for some challenges that are to make the higher ups go hard with joy, our group was interesting. Specifically we had to make a commercial for all to watch about the company. Hello, this is something teams take weeks or months to create. We were given 30 minutes. This was the one part of the week that I knew going into it that I would not lose to anyone.

I stood within the group listening to ideas on how to make this commercial. Never could I have expected the caliber of ideas. One girl, bless her heart, opened her mouth and purged her credibility. "I think we should start with something like a cartwheel and then say "Now that we've got your attention..." and then present the lines of business."

A cartwheel. She was serious about it. I stood there letting that soak in my mind while for some ungodly reason the rest of the team was on the cartwheel wagon. Then one of the teammates looked at me, as I for the first time there, was silent for three straight minutes. Nothing, not even a sigh was let out by myself.

Confronted with the situation of the cartwheel, I was honest and told them that I would prefer something that would make people laugh with not at us. Within moments I came up with a premise and we tweaked it. We won the competition and the went on to win the whole contest. Fortunately, our hardwork and drive was rewarded with a $15 gift card to Barnes and Noble.

Showtime @ The Breadline Theater

WEDNESDAY 2/15/05 @ 8pm the Improv troupe Micetro will be performing in Chicago. I am apart of them and would love a big turnout as the show is being reviewed by Metro Mix from the Chicago Tribune.

Here's the details:

1802 Berenice (Chicago)
$6 actors $10 for people with day jobs

1 hr show

If you're driving- 90E to Irving Park Rd E. Irving to Ravenswood. Rt on Ravenswood to Grace. Rt on Grace to Ravenswood. Rt on Ravenswood. Immediate left on Berenice.

From the city- take the brown line to Irving Park and follow the aforementioned directions from Irving Park.

Travel is about 5 minutes by feet from Brown line stop.

$1 PBR after the show.

Dreamweaver

It has come to my attention for the very first time of my life that someone actually admitted of dreaming about me...in that way. That way. A way that no longer is unthought of. Let me add the fudge to the sundae of sexuality here. A woman, young lady whatever, had a dream about me. That just proves that as lonely as I may feel, there is someone with a heart of charity thinking of me.

I have not even had the chance to speak with her about this matter. I know she knows this blog exists so someday this could make for an awkward chat, if her parents of a priest are around. Otherwise, I am sure it will be summed up with the catch-all 20-something suffix of ...but I was drunk.

So it got me thinking, of what she was thinking. Does she know that I am not too flexible? Was the floor used? Hardwood? Yeesh, I hope padded carpet. Does she think that I am in shape? I certainly hope that pipedream is the least detailed. I know that I have made her laugh quite a bit and would only beg that all hilarity was not experienced while in the buff.

Now to you missy. Who told you to go tell people that you are putting yourself to rest with racey images of a lanky 6'5" freckled dreamboat? My own mind has gone to town and back over the thought of the situation. Your dream has now caused residual dreaming on my part. Unfortunately, when I confront you on the expectations from your dream in mine, I wake up.

Somehow even in REM I have become blue balled.

I-Pass

There may be some people that read this and are not apart of the fine midwestern mediocrity that I so am use to. It has come to my attention that the tollway system in this fine state has doubled its tolls for non-I-Pass users. That will hurt who? Just Mr. & Mrs. Tommy Tourist. Welcome to Illinois now pay double than what we do. I have been to all borders of Illinois and by the sight alone it is not worth $2 to enter this state. However, in many cases it is not the fee of entering Illinois it is the rate of rescue from Indiana, Wisconsin, Iowa, or Missouri.

Prior to my purchase of the I-Pass I was a change tossing mofo. Recent testimony has proven that I have fo'd up five times. What the state does for tollway violators is they wait until the fifth violation to notify and summon fees to be paid. Be careful, IL can pull you into court for violations that date back in 2002. Mine were all in a matter of a couple weeks. Efficiency is my forte.

I used to think that I could do the whole lawyer thing. Nope. I am wrong. When one's defense is built upon the profound statement of "the law is just illogical" it tends to be an uphill climb. Plus the beauty of the system is that as long as a crazy law is in place you must abide by it, and then challenge to have it ammended. I don't have to time to urinate away on the steps of legislative clout. I fear the dark side of the far right trying to infect my mind and tempt me with trickle down economics.

Now back to the case at hand. While defending myself, my voice cracked at least three times, completely negating the blue pinstripe suit I was wearing. The tollway rep had a gap between her two front teeth that I could illegally park a Cadallac between. It bothered me, so I figured to note.

The hearing officer was merciless toward me, mainly since the military yahoo before me pretty much sweared to her face. It's like not being able to go out because your sister or brother messed up at school. Trickle down judicial rulings. My defense seemed so logical and solid that I should have known of my iminent robbing. I will never forget (barring Alzheimers) the look on the officer's face when I concluded. "Is that- your defense?" I might as well got a GED and saved thousands of dollars and hours of work.

My fines were not overturned, not a single one. Each toll violation is acompanied by a $20 fine. My final cost was $101.85. To make sure I felt the fullest level of spite for my governmental process, the hearing officer ruled that I must pay my bill and "Good Luck." Apparently I have been chosen to leave middle Earth to find the lost bit of decency from my state.

I then took my rage out on my mom during a peak time cell call, while driving with one hand and hitting every strategically placed pot hole on my way to the wrong on ramp for the tollway. Thank you Illinois, I thought I was supposed to be first jaded by government when my social security kicked in, you've educated me more than life itself. If at all possible, please raise property taxes too, wherever I move to.

Glory Days

Perhaps the most annoying thing for me this morning was one of the most painful moments in a parent's life. I don't know what it is about the school bus that simply bothers me. Don't get me wrong, I think children should walk everywhere too, that way we don't have to wonder why they get dad's hand-me-downs by age 9.

It is fun to watch them pile into the bus eager for education or to my recollection, chocolate milk. There should be some timer or cattle prod or declining aisle that gets them to plant their butts in the seats pronto. I don't think that kids have attention disorders that is all the blame of the parents who rather watch HBO than entertain the result of their entertaining eachother.

Something needs to be said about the distance between bus stops. It seems as though every block is a school bus stop. Here is another tragic truth. I see it a bit extreme for all cars in a two block radius to have to freeze and wait for these money pits to cross the street.

I remember that the cool kids always sit in the back of the bus. The barometer of social acceptance was directly proportional to the seating arrangement. Strangly enough, I was typically on the bump. There was a point in our history lesson of civil rights that I realized why the white culture will never be what the black culture is already. When I heard that the black people were forced to sit in the back of the bus I was shocked. Never before have I seen it a matter this black and white. Whites were just declaring how lame they were by wanting the seat closest to the driver.

Public transportation is good for two things. 1 Alleviating traffic. 2. Making one feel immensely more attractive than other people around you.

I'd Like to Cower to the Manager Please

What a weekend. My Friday was so spectacular and informative. I learned that my Playstation 2 has a higher intelligence than I do. This lesson made its way to me somewhere in the 30th minute of me trying to jump up and get a box that had the one remaining item for the initial level of Jak and Daxter. This was such a valuable lesson that I retired early to prepare for the bustling Saturday.

I am very pleased to announce the besides the improv troupe MICETRO (pronounced Mice- tro) which plays Wednesdays at the Breadline Theater @ 8pm, 1802 Berenice (Brown line stop of Irving Park, Ravenswood to Berenice) I will be starting up a new improv duo. My pal Bill and I are both tall and well modestly speaking, dreamy improvers. We like to call ourselves, The Inseam Asylum.

With all that being said look for an promotional barrage of flyers, radio plugs and most likely a Tonight Show appearance. That is to say if Bill and I are not billed as follow ups to Steve Erwin. This should be a great time and I look forward to making you all laugh as The Inseam Asylum.

~~~~~

There is a little sports bar/market place near my friend Rob's. It is called Hawkeyes. I used to think that this was a cool place to go to but I have recently learned that I would rather drink around a flaming garbage can than go there. It has turned into this farm system for Ed Debevics. Each waitress I have had really missed the concept of serving.

Let's get this straight too. I no longer have pity on wait staff. I used to think that they had it tough and that they all started at Denny's so I should be kind to encourage them on in their illustrious career. With recent events leaving me more than sour about service, I no longer feel obliged to tip well. When I have a bad day, call or whatever, the customer usually just hangs up and goes back to thinking about themselves. I get it, you want to be a dancer, actor, comedian, baby's momma, whatever. Don't be rude and take it out on the innocent customers when you finally realize an English degree should have come standard with an IHOP apron.

Don't get me wrong, IHOP is a wonderful place that I could only imagine to someday be fired and then hired at. I just get a bit frustrated when people play the victim and more times than not they are the assailant as well. I have experienced some wonderful wait help. They truly can make this a career because someday they'll be working in that Signature Room atop the JHC.

But not the chach that helped us. I ordered nachos (of course) with only cheese, salsa, and sour cream. She comes back with a plate of nachos with everything on it. Since I was drinking long before, my courtesy filter was removed. Before she even had the chance to put the plate down I told her the order was wrong. She then replied with "did you really? Are you sure?" Listen nimrod, agree with me and you'll make more than $3 this hour ok?

She then asked "can I just scrape it off so that the chef doesn't have to make another one?" This is not a lasagna or anything that requires effort. I ordered something a stoner could make. Chips, cheese, pour salsa, and glob some sour cream on it. Now I fully understand the 30 minute wait for nachos. I mentioned that I had a "slight allergic reaction to olives." She still only scraped off.

What made the night the best was that Eileen, a sweet petite Hawiian (not Samoan if you're wondering) just reemed the manager a new one. Meanwhile Rob and I stared at our place settings. I told Rob that with Eileen's assertion, and our timidness I could actually detect my genitals becoming inverted. It was almost so bad that I walked home with a purse.

I suppose it's all about equal rights, right? This was the woman's time to stand up for her man, and his friend's nachos. Yep, definitely that, we were definitely not being dill holes.

Weren't You Supposed to Die?

On August 1, 1981 a little conceptual tv channel proclaimed the end of the radio and the start of a revolution. Well, almost 25 years later we are still pumping out the same music on the radio. I love many types of music but like most things it's in moderation that keep the enjoyment around.

I am convinced that right now if you were to turn on the radio you would hear one of the following songs.
Led Zepplin- Black Dog
Lynard Skynard- Free Bird
Green Day- Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Avril Lavigne- Happy Ending
and any rap song about things that are shiny.

Radio is the catch 22 that we all love to complain about. How often will a new song come on the radio and you change it within the first twenty seconds? The average song on the radio is only about 3 minutes. That's it. In the time it takes for the car in front of you to merge completely over one lane the song will be over. Do we listen? Sometimes but often times not. The reason is simple. No one wants to willingly leave their comfort level on such a regular basis.

Another concern I have about radio is that it still has such an impact on people's lives. I found myself frantic over a contest for a radio station. Then I realized to what capacity of a dueche bag I have become. Morning shows are something I loathe for the reason that I am a conversation orphan. When I enter a gathering with people already there, I feel like all that I am doing is standing within peripheral vision of everyone while they carry on deliberately steering conversation away from my bastard social life.

~~~~~~~

I left the comfort zone this week. The thing about leaving your comfort zone is that you really don't know what it is until you feel horribly uncomfortable. Apparently my comfort zone was a private shower. When I went to the YMCA this week I had to shower before work, common coutesy. Upon enter the locker room I knew that this was going to be ackward for a couple reasons. 1. I have that huge bruise on my thigh that shows the rest of the inmates that I am able to be conquered. 2. I have realized that with age women hate the sagging while men are ok with it. There will always be the desire for our areas to actually be hitting the floor. 3. I'm not gay. Pyschiatrists claim that we all experience moments where we contemplate alterior sexualities. Well, when entering a shower stall full of farmer tanned new year's resolutions made me long for even a Wisconsin woman.

Never have I taken a quicker shower in my life. Consequentially, never have I stared at one ceramic tile for an entire rinse, lather and rinse cycle. I know that I am griping about the YMCA of all places but still I felt like I was breaking into a Mason's meeting or something.

I would like to meet the person that ruined my chance at a shower divider. Not in public man, not in public.

Where Has the Tallest Blog Been?

Let me tell you that 2005 has been more than eventful. This blur of highs and lows are something that I would like to explain.

Since the last entry, two whole weeks ago, I have...
1. Recieved approximately 456 different opinions on the reasons I should own or rent a property
2. Been consumed by the beast that is known as "the day job"
3. Fallen down a flight of stairs, don't worry I'll expound soon
4. Won two games of Cranium-Primo Edition
5. Used my YMCA membership
6. Reached an all time high for dispisement of radio personalities.

Let's dig a bit deeper on some of these shall we.

So I have been approved for a decent sized mortgage. The catch is that it doesn't really give me the leverage to live in the city. Nothing like getting the nerve to speak to the hot girl at the party and she quickly says that your car isn't nice enough, but you can date her plain Jane friend. Do you go out just to go out? No. Do you tell the girl that you're willing to trade in the car for a sweeter ride? No. Like many situations, there are only wrong answers that are more right than the other. At least most of my friends and family commend me for my efforts with a hybrid of pity and respect.

How's the job? That's what people ask me more than "when are you moving out?" The job is great. I finally found a career that is directly proportional to my romantic life. Within moments of a great achievement somehow a great oversight is found. I look at it like kindergarten, I still get graded on effort and soon they will let me go to the bathroom by myself.
Scary truth. Since my arrival I have come accross FIVE personel changes. A few have been the success route, and then there are the "not the right fit" nonsense. Also, in my efforts to help people find employment I have come across the best demonstration that government programming is being abused. "I have an employment opportunity for you _______. It lasts for about a month and pays $11/hr." They say to me "I can't take that job because it will disrupt my eligibility for unemployment." Isn't that the point of ME? To find a job for you and thus interrupt your unemployment. That alone gives me reason to support eight years of Republican leadership to purge any bedwetting program.

As I went looking for condos (owning is a great thing) I looked at some studios. Why studios? Well the answer for that is two part. 1. The aforementioned mortgage I have is "modest" at best. 2. Per the analysis from others my social life and activity does not deem necessary more than 500 square feet of living space. The kithen area is manageable with the posh counter top dining area for me to pull a chair up next to all my photos of my friends that wish I had a one bedroom. There really is no need for another chair since I have no friends to begin with, nor would there be room for more than one and a third to be in there.

I was walking down the fire stairwell as the forth floor door was locked. Now as I was moderately gripping the metal railing, I thought to myself, "good thing you're holding on to the railing, you don't want to... And as I said "slip" to myself, my ass went out underneath me. I flew over the next two steps and slid (as natural as steps allow) down the next three to be halted by the brick wall. Fortunately for me, my left thigh, wrist, and ankle can support my entire body weight. My first words to the realitor were "my benefits don't start for another two weeks."

I've started drinking again.

It's Not You, it's the Ungodly Bad Photo of You

Don't knock it until you try it they say. Well it has been tried and now I shall knock it down like the Berlin Wall of pretentious ideals. One of my work buddies told me that he has been dating someone for over a year. They met online. A storied love affair I am sure, Nothing short of Tom and Meg in the Emerald City.

Well upon the fascinating tale of his and the renewed blind hope for romance I figured it was my time. As I pioneered into the merky waters of online "dating" I began to realize how long and how cold the other side of the bed will be. Nothing could have prepared me for the deepest well of shovel faces and cat lovers.

No matter how genuine the profile is that one writes it is overshadowed with horrible cliche headlines like "jokester looking to be serious with right one." At that point I could actually feel my testicles retreating from any form of masculinity.

My brief tenure in this field did have two returns. One actually wrote in broken English. When looking for someone within 40 miles of my location apparently the RUSSIAN FEDERATION is right next door. The next girl was really sweet and showed interest in meeting and such but I probably screwed something up like leaving without even telling her I was. A regular casanova I know.

I decided that it really was in my best interest to fail, or be rejected in person so that my other friends can get some form of enjoyment out of it. Never selfish, always lame that's my mo.

No one mentions that if you try to leave that the service will offer you the program at a cheaper rate. I knew I had to stay strong when I was face to screen breaking up with my online relationship server. After choosing one of the staple reasons for departure, there is a box for an explanation. Never has my computer told me "...but I just don't get it. Things were going great."

For those who would never know how to break up with their online cattle match finder let me show you how it is done. The following is verbaitim what I wrote to them.

The ammount of time that I need to invest into starting a relationship is something that I prefer to do at my leisure and without the financial commitment tied to a clientel that I can't find compatible with myself. I tried this upon recommendation of a friend and am glad he found success here. Fortunately, I can cut my losses as a few hours and a full refund. Thanks for trying though.

That's right, full refund. Go ahead and try it just do what I do and back out within the 14-day trial period. There is always a loop hole in life, just not a looker.

Move it Along

As I stepped out of class today to possibly the best two-day parking space high, I watched as a Dodge hit a Mercedes. No one was hurt so I think but it all happened so suddenly and without a glimpse of general care by the people around them. Safety in numbers I suppose, if the fifty people closest to me don't care I suppose it's alright for me to not care either.

This recent snow storm has given me great reason to find a place to live with a parking space off the street. I would imagine the plow driver to move through the side streets thinking- well that Toyota better be waking up early or there is no chance of getting to work on time.

While I was driving this past weekend I have reconfirmed the fact that I very well am one of the worst drivers on the road. After nearly getting into a couple accidents last night I had to tell myself that it may be time to let go of the trademark merge then look maneuver.

That is something that amazing to me. When on the highway people are zooming around like it's a Nascar race. However, when the time comes to switch lanes I and many others do the breaking merge. Nothing says thank you to the car behind me like an immediate 15 mile an hour drop in my speed.

I miss my interaction with the toll booth operators. Now that I-pass is up and running I will never again get to see those faces that look like a mix of any radio personality and Eeyor. At first I didn't realize why toll booth folk were wearing the rubber gloves and then moments before I handed my change to them I sneezed and it became suddenly clear to me.

Sometimes I wish we still rode horses.

If You Wondered Why I am Single...

This is it. No more excuses. We have one chance to conquer all goals this year. I am speaking to my fellow Roosters, according to the Chinese calendar. I fell like its the summer of George all over again. Hopefully this bodes better than that did. I made a list of 45 things to do this year and I just got one done. Three days in and I am already making my mark.

Granted these goals range from the superb to the dorky like beating Madden. As I have just become Superbowl Champs moments ago I take a moment to ponder how I got to where I now sit. Oh yeah, there were dark times. After training camp, Edgerrin James broke his ankle and was out 9 weeks. At one point we lost three straight games. Focus and poise carried us through and he became Superbowl MVP.

Like Abe Lincoln said, "whether you think you can or you can't, you're right." Sure it may seem a bit trivial to merge that life lesson to Madden video games, but lifes lessons come from the strangest places sometimes. I plan on going out on top and will not ever play another season of Madden myself unless I get a room mate that wants to play.

~~~~~~~~

My new years went rather well. I got to hang out with my friends Brian and Brad. The beauty of our parties is that we know going into it that it very well may blow. Somehow, I had a great time drinking beer, eating cups of jello shots, and playing beer pong. No I am not in college anymore but still love doing that. What was mystical about the night was that there was not a damn bit of drama. I attribute that to all the women there being engaged or married.

~~~~~
Dear Young Attractive Women,

STOP GETTING ENGAGED. If you're that horny and equally afraid of std's then just be more selective with people and more liberal with toys. This infestation of attractive young women being abducted under the pretense of diamonds and lifelong happiness is just fowl.

I understand that it is vital to keep up with the Jones's but for the love of God slow it down. Trust me, someone will still want to have sex with you after you are thirty. Just not as many people.

If you do feel the urge to get married/engaged, please move to the suburbs. That is what they are for. There are too many of you married ladies running around the city while your husbands are still looking for parking.

Here is my last comment if you have been dating for a while. You MUST allow each of your boyfriends closest friends/brother to date one of your friends. Simply that will give you some breathing space. Plus we're all tired of sitting across the room while they wish for a guy to take them out. What's the worse thing that could happen? They will be thoroughly disappointed. Not like that wasn't going to happen. At least then you could laugh about it when all go out after the fling fizzles. Nothing like romantic futility to fossilize the conversation.

Finally, since there is equality choose one of the following and stick to it;
1. never paying for dinner
2. an engagement ring
3. that evasive orgasm
4. unconditional love

The choice is yours, as is the first round of drinks.

Five for Mike

So that time came. The time for some guys to discuss the top 5 celebs that would rather have open boils on their butt than speak with them. My list is probably similar to the other males out there. Look at it like a meal. There is an appetizer, maybe a soup, vegetable, entre, and of course desert. Let's see how the menu at Mc Longshot looks.

5. Vivica A. Fox
4. Mandy Moore
3. Britney Spears-Federline
2. Heather Locklear
1. Natalie Portman

Now for an appetizer we shall start with a Britney. Nothing too special. Everyone in town has had it and said how good it is. No big commitment either, if you don't like it just send it back. Plus, at this point it's all about how good you look with it in front of you, who cares about the sustanance.

Nothing like a Mandy Moore soup. Almost a meal but not quite. Almost an actress but not quite. Associating with her is a something people do quickly, although warm and healthy still embarrassing to admit that one enjoys.

Heather has to be the vegetable of the group. The woman just refuses to age. I really have nothing more than she has to be good for the mind, body, soul, and reputation.

After Garden State and her Inside the Actor's Studio, I have come to realize Natalie Portman most definitely wants me. If you don't believe me than you're hopped up on something. So, back to this metaphor barrage. Maybe not this is becoming pathetic and trite all too quickly.

I just wanted to say that for some unintelligent reason a friend and I felt is was necessary to list the top five celebs that we would go out with... you know if the Make-A-Wish Foundation started to help out the chronic epidemic of nice guys finishing last.

Another Complex is Born

Well, there is no other way to say it. I have a new found complex. Ok, it has been around a while and it has only recently began to surface. I have horrible teeth. They look alright but I know that my English heritage is looming in the waiting room of any dentist's office. In my opinion they are not as white as they should be. There are reasonable tones of white. I don't think by any means I look like I have tootsie roll stuck in my teeth but I prefer to keep it that way.

It has only been five minutes since I put on my first set of whitening strips. I have swallowed my own saliva but twice. The gel is supposedly ok to digest but like anything from the dental industry it comes with the painful aftertaste that only inspires heaving.

I am drooling now. Really I am. This is rather disgusting, actually it's more pathetic. That's not a big concern for me since I am finding entertainment with how far I can lean forward before I spill all over myself. At this time I would like to remind the ladies out there of my bachelorhood. My apparent celebration from the attention after the Second City show must have been premature. Alas, I still have my hopes for one.

Is it supposed to sting? It has this tingling sensation that makes me think this is over the counter novacain. The side effect of this is exponential mucus production. What the box omitted to say was that once side effect of these whitening strips is saliva thick like a spider web. Sure you're grossed out now just wait until day 14 when I look as dreamy as the rest of fancy lads.

What bothers me the most is that for some reason I am afraid to swallow my own saliva. Lesson learned, although personal preference is to spit and rinse this crap out it is more socially acceptable to swallow the saliva.

Just incase you only read that last paragraph, I was talking about teeth whitening strips not being gay.

T'is the Season for Understanding

Yesterday was the apparent birthday of Jesus Christ and the only time I caught recognition of that was hearing Jesus Christ ____ is a dip shit. I think that it is a special occasion that makes me afraid to die and go to heaven. Going a whole eternity watching other people getting gifts on your birthday would make me a little more selective on who gets into my club.

That being said, the holiday season is a great time for understanding. I now understand the looks from across the room. I understand who I am supposed to hate because they wronged someone else than me. I understand that even though my last living grandma is in the ICU, we all should sit down to our first deep fried turkey. I used to think C'est le vie was french for such is life, I know understand it means "the will is set."

The family gathering is like the main event for the heavy weight boxing title. Everyone gathers round in nice clothing to watch two monkeys swing below the belt. The holidays are supposed to be this swell time for all to ignore their bills, health issues, or cheating slut wives (maybe) and sit pleasantly while the Savings and Loan goes belly up.

Another year passess, I seem to have gotten taller to my distant relatives. However, that is not really true. I just appear that since I have not seen them in ohh, I don't know a year. They are all very nice to me and I love the time we talk. It is very entertaining since I spend half the time trying to remember their spouses' names. It's kind of like in those heist movies when they are unscrambling the entry code. I digress.

Part of my compulsive analysis of myself lies in my bodylanguage. I am always thinking that my face or body is completely contradicting my words. I say that I am interested in hearing more yet I am starting to stretch my leg as it falls asleep. Then there is the children.

I care for children on the holidays like a plate of tuna at a steak house. Alright I get it, you're having sex. No need to rub it in or be a live action abstinance endorsement. I feel bad for the kids because their parents already think I am freakishly tall, what is going on in their heads when I stand near them? "Don't move, he's probably like a T-Rex- if I stay still he won't see me."

I really wish I could get a grip on the holidays. I love my family but it just seems that like TNT, we know drama too. Maybe that's why everyone I know my age is running off and getting married. They want to make their own holiday memories brighter than the generations past. The only catch is that they tend to stick around to critique the first few ones.

Happy Festivus!

A Non-Materialistic Wish List

During this holiday season I have decided to focus on the alleged true meaning of the holidays. Ok, Christmas. I really don't celebrate Hanakka or Chuananananakka or Kwanzzzzaaa or Quanza or whatever new fangled affirmative holiday America pretends can revive the economy. Back to me not supporting consumerism. It all comes so clear when you're ass broke that truly God can speak with you, mainly since no one really talks with the less fortunate since they just tend to ramble on.

Anywho, if you would like to be a sport and give a little to someone who can only give back equally with acts of kindness not gift cards, then consider the following wish list.

I wish for:

a Madden Championship (ok that's more on my own)
never to hear another version of The Little Drummer Boy
Jay Leno to say something funny on the Tonight Show
one Cub fan to say "ok maybe not this year"
another clip show on VH1
ESPN to stop trying reality tv shows
Linsay Lohen to stop covering up her freckles, yes I meant freckles
Paris Hilton to be on the next Apprentice
GAP to admit that GAP means Gay And Proud
motown to come back and pimp slap the morons that disgrace R&B
every scientific study to end with "are you scared yet?"
Mayor Daley to tell someone on camera to F#@$ off
Bill Murray to win an Oscar
Zach Braff too
molting to be a side-effect of tanning beds
Clay Aiken to stop wearing Argyle
people to use stereotypes for good (ex. way to save money for the future, that's mighty Jewish of you.)
Michael Stipe to get permanent laryngitus
people to not be surprised by weather
girls under 18 to put some clothes on
the Middle East to calm down so North Korea has a chance to ruin life
me to slam dunk once that's all really

Just a couple things Santa. Sure hope that it's not too short of notice.

Sublimal Messages From MSN

I happen to use hotmail for email because I am that old school. Upon signing out they redirect me to msn.com, a slightly more credible source of news. By credible I am comparing it with my other sources of news, VH1 News, BET News, Fox, and of course E! News Live.

Quick tangent. VH1 News is slightly pertinent if you are still waiting for someone to tell you that your horizontal striped sweater in style. BET News is great. The top news story typically goes like "topping our news today, Harlem is still a shit hole, no thanks to white people. In a related story the NHL is still a joke, no thanks to black people." Fox, has Geraldo. E! News live. Finally a news program that can really make housewives appreciate their spectacular life choices.

Back to the message at hand. MSN has each day about six suggested searches that cover such a random spectrum they must be connected. Here are the suggested searches and then I shall try to within six degrees of separation to find their relation to eachother.

Suggested Searches
News: Flu pandemic
Images: Polar bears
Winter solstice
Ice skating
Hybrid cars

With the winter solstice near approaching, all the infected polar bears have made their way down from the melting polar ice caps. These very cola loving bears seem to have an inverse hatred for the ice skating Canucks. After seeing little Dale fall in the Hudson the Yahheydears decide to cut their losses and run to safety in their 17 horse-powered hybrid cars. While grabbing the door handle, papa bear rips the coat and beard off Mrs. Yahheydear. Unable to afford the heat feature in the hybrid the family spins out and eventually dies from the flu pandemic.

Well, that was captivating yesno? They're not all winners folks. If you have been reading for that past couple entries you should know that.

Gold, Frankenscence, and French Thongs

Nothing gets the Yule tide spirit in the air like the Victoria's Secret commercials. I find it to of course be better than any Charlie Brown special. They are so attractive and dressed like no other woman I've seen. Then they open their mouths. Heidi says that I should tell her she's sexy. That is something I could work with or most likely never see happen.

I sure wish Tyra Banks would not talk. She is the only large breasted woman who's head is proportional to her cup size. How does she get so much hair? Pretty sure there are some extensions. Which to me extensions are like wearing someone else's underwear.

I suggest that when Victoria's Secret makes another tv commercial, leave Bob Dylan or any other creepy old guys out of them. There are enough obstacles in my way to meeting women and I would appreciate that the image of dissheveled rambling man to be as far away from them as possible.


I would like to continue this more in the morning. ...

Before I Rest

You should know that tonight's set went alright, ok pretty good. Then I tried to end on something new, that had me trying to draw a parallel to being a black man and being tall. A free lesson to other comics, if you mess up on a joke that has cultural themes you will be called racist. Which is not as bad as sexist since being sexist alienates the whole gender you probably are trying to impress.

But I digress, and sleep alone.

I Believe in Bob Vila

Growing up there is this great value for children to believe. Whether Santa, Jesus, Mohommad, there is a lesson that parents want their kids to experience. What if the main reason for religion is that we have faith that in our darkest moment there will be a glimmer of hope? What if our savior doesn't come? Who then do we choose to follow?

From the days on "Home Again with Bob Vila" I have saught for the answers to my questions of improvement. Who was this wonderful man that was renovating New England one colonial villa at a time? Long before the utility vest was made a Gap staple this bearded St. Home Improvement was showing America how to fix that dream house they'll never have.

Children will always have Santa (unless their Jewish and well that's not my fault.). No matter what direction you bow to give thanks, all adults can believe in Bob Vila. A man, amongst infomercial hosts. Or so I thought. "Home Again" is like "Law & Order" in the sense that I could sit down and watch about ten straight hours of programs without reservation.

I was in a conversation about how great Bob Vila is for society and someone called him a fraud. Aww heck no! I said. Say it ain't so Bob! Say it ain't so! We were talking about the one aspect of Bob that makes my nights restless. He seems to survey the work site without the slightest bit of home repair knowledge. His crew is always fielding his elementary inquiries. Once I saw him approach Rowly, his carpenter, that was marking his points on a board to be nailed.

Bob asked him "So, what are you doing there Rowly?" "Well Bob, I am marking the wood so I know where to drive the nail." Bob then shows his true knowledge. "Why do you want to do that?" Frustrated Rowly says "so I don't ruin the minimal supplies we have."

Vila then takes this moment of obvious events as an industrial awakening. He thrives in then covering his tracks by making it seem like he knew that all along. "Exactly. See Rowly has to follow every step since there is no step to be skipped." Moments like that make me amazed that someone that pontificates anally can actually be a spokesperson for a line of tools.

As inept as Bob Vila appears I still believed he was this moronic handyman. That vision was shattered quickly by some ironically pompus know-it-all. Some guy told me that Bob was just an actor. Just an actor? No way. Maybe he was acting to not know as much but certainly he was this icon that SEARS makes him to be.

Much to my chigrin, he is just an actor (I am going on that conversation, I never researched it). Just like when I realized the truth to Santa, my heart imploded. If there was no Santa, I took solace in Bob Vila. If there was no Bob Vila what's next? Is someone going to tell me that Joan Rivers really like to wear skorts from Marshalls? Will we find out that Jerry Springer is a muslim?

Please America, let some dreams live on. If not for me for the children. The children need to dream.

Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

Alright, Max here is you Goddamn drunken blog entry. I'm not even going to proof it. That's how WILD I AM, Nutrag!

Tonight was another quest into the land of sexual futility. I say sexual because romance requires thought and effort. I dabbled in some adult beverages early on and alone. Desperate times call for plus size women or something along that line, I hear.

So my friend Brad said we were to join forces with hot women and well the rest would be best told in a locker room or fraternity house. Somehow those very hot and amazingly straight female softball women heard I was near and chose to not call Brad with there whereabouts. Another knotch in the bedpost only makes me look more rustic.

Ready to accept the cold shower of defeat I took off my shirt. My friend Sarah comes along and tells me that her fiance and her would pick me up to go to a bar, in Bowlingbrook. Within fifteen mintutes I drank more. I like to work the buzz from the moment I get there. Anyway, if none of you have been to the Rodeo drive of trailer trash called Bowlingbrook then let me tell you about it.

I went to this catchy sportsbar in search of miss right. I was flexible with just meeting miss negative std test result. Alas, neither were there. I have seen the bottom of shower sandals cleaner than the people there. Somehow the libido says "dude, what are you kidding me? Not even battery acid would sanitize that." There were some hot mommas there, chances are the sitter would appreciate them bringing back another person- job security.

What amazed me is the courage of the ugly people there. There were multiple obese people with horizontal stripes. HELLO! Did your father take a tumble off the wall before he could tell you about the ramifications of such a fashion? Am I the only one that thinks when obese people where horizontal stripes they look like a croquette ball? (Please send a comment to confirm me being alone or not)

Our waitress was the worse yet. I mean, shit, Denny's would tell her to go elsewhere. She was so bad that I didn't even consider her wanting to make out with me. She was busy dropping it like it was hot infront of the newest GED class.

As always, whenever I get together with my friend Sarah we talk about who from highschool we have seen. This one guy that showed up apparently dated a girl I graduated high school with. What I didn't know was that they split up two weeks prior after three years. Here is how the conversation went.

Me: Oh, so you and Jenny are broken up?
Chach: Yeah, we decided to take some time apart.
Me: Way to go man! Right before the holidays too, that's called a sound financial decision.
Dueche: Actually, I already spent some time shopping for her.
Me: Well that's what they make reciepts for.
Knob: (silently exits)

Whenever you feel down about your life, come to Bowlingbrook. A town so inept they would elect a stray cat as their mayor.

Alright I Get It, Maybe

After signing out to hotmail, msn has a list of some things they suggest you search incase you needed to surf for some clean content at work. The past two days they have suggested structured settlement and steel building. I would love to think I know how they relate. I think it is code for commercial real estate leads to a messy divorce.

Remixing the Remixes

There is something amazing in the music industry. Linkin Park has joined forces with Jay-Z to make the Mashups cd that apparently we were asking for since the two made it. I really appreciate Linkoln Park's talents and moxy to release the same album three times over and still manage to go platinum each time.

I understand that without their musical genius I probably would never drink Mountain Dew or even watch a minute of the X Games. Who would have thought they would collaborate with Jay-Z? I mean he was supposedly retiring from this rap game still on top, blah blah blah. Some people never change until you wave some money infront of them.

Another theory on why the styles work well together is that Jay mentions in his song "encore" that he had to dumb down his lyrics for his fans to enjoy his words. I guess after one leaves the streets, to maintain their cred they must insult the very people that got them out of a food stamp funded life. While Hova is telling his fans that they are no smarter than his own project dwelling thugs, Linkin Park is working the second verse of another song that tells the tales of wrist slitting Eeyors. All in all everyone goes home feeling worthless and to me there is no better way to rock out.


~~~~~

I am going to try and do a brief entry when I wake up. This way my incoherent thoughts can be released before having to prove my worth to my coworkers. So we shall see how well that works out.

~~~~

I came home from work and took a nap for like an hour and a half. I have this huge fear of being caught sleeping. Whether alone or someone actually witnessing me dozing off, I jump up and try to deny the truth. I looked at the clock and it read something like 8:26. I immediately freaked out thinking I am late for work. Then my mind starts to go. If it's this late why is there no sun? Oh no, not an eclipse during the day. That's a bad sign.

When you don't get regular exercise your heart will race at even just going up some stairs. After five minutes my heart sank back into my chest and I realized that I will never stop being a compulisively analytical dork.

Good Night.

What is This, Morning Stuff?

It is not even 6:15am and I am awake. I have done more this morning than in the last few days of my retirement. I am such a go getter. I sure hope every morning is this wonderful.

The End of an Era

Don't cry for me unemployment, the truth is you just weren't that appealing to women. Isn't that why we do everything anyway? Today I worked five hours. The prospect of this company is great. I had some first day jitters. My biggest insecurity is that I only have one suit, that I got junior year of high school. There are only so many ways to diversify a suit before people realize you've been wearing the same thing the whole time.

Not that there is any strenous work in an office but still, I just feel like I am on one of those bring your kid to work visits. Tomorrow I am off to get some new suits and then tell myself that I can get into shape by the end of the year.

What a summer huh? My early retirement has been nothing more than a blissful misery. There is something to be said about retirement. I never did make it to Florida. I hear it's nice about this time of year. I did catch an episode of Golden Girls and even some Wonder Years. Still don't see what's so hot about Matlock. Unfortunately, I never woke up on time to get the early bird special.

I no longer have my addiction to melodramatic shows like Dawson's Creek. I am going on about seven weeks of not watching any WB programming and consequentially, no more prozac. Although I am still getting the shakes when I go more than eight hours without seeing an episode of Pimp My Ride.

Since I have already experienced retirement at 23, what is there left to live for? Life I suppose. Retirement is similar to being in bed. See how long you can stay in bed, awake. That is how much you'll like retirement.

One thing I will kind of miss is calling people during the work day. I would tell them to hang in there, things will pick up. Or, at least you have a job right? Taking it for what it is worth, many young people like to find themself while backpacking through Europe. That is effective in one manner. If you surround yourself with amazing things, you will want to be as amazing (or close to it).

Perhaps the one thing I am most glad to not experience is the interrogation. Do you have a job yet? Are you looking for a job? Do you know you need a job? WHAT?#@! A job? I have been at a loss now for months trying to figure out what it is exatly I should be doing from 9 to 5 for five days a week. Damn, a job. Thanks for the tip dill hole.

Check.